All the Broken Children
by JLW
Summary: Drabbles inspired by words from the Hunger Games. Contains "Hunger games 11" and "Catching fire". Feel free to suggest words for me to use. :D Please review x
1. Hunger Games

Hunger

The hunger hurts so much, it's like a knife stabbed in my stomach and it's twisting this way and that. Mother says Katniss will be back soon, but back with what? She might not have caught anything; she might come back with nothing for us to eat. She'll go out again tomorrow, but what's the guarantee that she and Gale will catch anything? The only things that keep me sane are the cakes in the window; I could look at them for hours if it weren't for the baker's wife who chases me away. I hope Katniss comes back soon.

Unrequited

I've loved Katniss ever since I saw her. At school, I fell in love with the way she looked, the long dark hair and grey eyes made her look like anyone else from the seam, but there was something else, and I adored her. I fell in love with her voice when she sang; the notes soared above me like a bird in flight, beautiful. I finally had the courage to tell her my feelings, and for that week in the cave, I actually believed that she loved me too. But she just threw it all back in my face.

Need

Some people in District 12 thought that Katniss was cruel. She could have had, would have had Gale if she had let it. But instead she burnt that bridge and attempted to love Peeta, but it was all fake, she only did it to save her skin. And when she got back to District 12, she had fallen out with Peeta, big time. It was unfair on both boys, but Katniss went ahead, breaking people's hearts. Instead, Katniss did it because she needed to. She needed to know she was wanted; she needed to feel, to know she was alive.

Gamble

Sponsoring a tribute is a gamble. Say for example a sponsor bought a jewelled sword for a career in District 1, if that tribute sneezed on his plate, so explosively that he tripped forward, and set off a mine and died. Who would have known? It was the mentor's job to try and get people to see past these risks and to buy gifts for the tributes. They made the citizens forget about the risks of sponsoring a high training score, who probably had a whole string of careers chasing them. The mentors used the patter, "Life's a gamble, right?"

Easel

When Peeta got back from the arena, the first thing he spent his money on was an easel. It was made of ebony wood, sleek and grand. However, the pictures he painted were not so beautiful. They were of the games; he painted screaming children, their faces cut and burned. He drew the dead tributes littering the arena, some were gruesome and others were haunting. He drew Rue most often, sometimes she was high up in a tree, sometimes she was with Katniss, smiling; finally happy after however many weeks of being alone, and other times he painted her dead.

Running

I've got to run; _one foot, other foot._ If I stop, the careers could find me;_ one foot, other foot._ I crash through the undergrowth, I should be quieter, I know, but I can't help it, I have to get away; _one foot, other foot_. I can hear shouts from behind me, they know I'm here; they've latched onto the scent and I could be dead in less than five minutes; _one foot, other foot._ I trip over a tree root, I scramble to get back up again, but I'm caught. The careers surround me and I close my eyes.

Greed

The Capitol was greedy. They just kept on making and creating things for their own enjoyment, with no thought for anyone else. They're just remodelling and renewing, anyone old could be made young, anyone ill can be fixed, can be made even better. If even a fraction of the money spent on useless things in the Capitol was given to some of the Districts then the quality of the poorest people would improve so much it could start another rebellion; that was the Capitol's reasoning anyway. If they live in luxury, then they will be encouraged to fight against us.

Alliance

An alliance was usually a group of people working together. The games had turned it into a dirty word. In the arena an alliance wasn't a group of friends, it was just a group of people who would end up turning on one another in the end. You couldn't trust them, but at times you had to put your life in their hands. The people you're working with will probably be dead by the end of it, so you can't get too close to them, you'll only end up getting hurt yourself. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

Madness

The bloodbath was madness, it always was. Frantic scrabbling for a weapon, some food, anything. Once the quick ones had cleared out, God help the ones who were left. The careers took some sick delight in dragging out the murders for as long as possible. Enjoying the tribute's screams like good wine. Some years, a few of the tributes would go insane; it always got the viewings up in the Capitol but in the Districts they only felt pity, the tributes families were always distraught. The amount of violence and blood in the arena could send anyone over the edge.

Eccentric

The fashions in the Capitol could only be described as, eccentric. Cinna used to watch his parents get ready to go out. He would sit in the doorway and watch as they scrubbed their bodies, as they plastered on their makeup. Once they had done that, they would choose a wig to wear; there was an entire cupboard dedicated to wigs in his old house, in a whole multitude of colours. After the wigs, his parents had to decide what to wear, which took at least three hours. Cinna thought it was all too much fuss, so he didn't bother.

Silence

I've won; I'm still alive, if only just. The crowd's cheers should be playing into the arena, but I can't hear their screams, I'm too busy trying to hold my guts in. Something's blocking out the sun, it's a hovercraft. A ladder drops down; I'm not going to be able to get up, I'm going to die here, in silence, I haven't yet let a whimper past my lips, and I don't plan to. Three men in white suits come down the ladder, they don't say anything, they tie me to the ladder and up I go, into the silence.

**A/N: I'm going to delete the version of this and "Catching Fire" that aren't in this, so the only place to access them will be here. Please feel free to suggest words for me to use, it would be really helpful. If you would like more of a certain drabble, please ask me to extend it and I will as soon as I can. I hope you like this idea, please review :D x**


	2. Catching Fire

Cold

It's so cold; I shiver and pull my thin jacket tighter around my body. It doesn't help; the wind blows past me and sets my teeth chattering. I gripped the bird's neck tighter, its ruffled feathers brushed against my cracked hands. This might last my family a few days, but it's all I have, Katniss will have to hunt for me in the week, I hate not being able to feed my own family and I hate the cold. When Katniss came back from the games, all the warmth had been sucked out of her; she isn't my Katniss anymore.

Apart

It had been so long, twenty five years exactly now. Twenty five years since my sister had been dragged from my arms and thrown into the arena. Twenty five years since she died. I can still hear her, in my head. I can hear her single scream of terror as the bird sliced through her neck, she was too shocked to speak after that, her hand scrabbled desperately against Haymitch. No pills or medication can fix the pain I feel; the bond between us had been broken. We were apart in body, but her death would stay with me forever.

Time

The Game makers thought that this had been their best idea yet. An arena based on a clock face, with different surprises as each hour passed. It would keep the Capitol hooked. The reintroduction of the Jabberjays had been easy, and the weather control was so simple even someone from the Districts could work it. It was time for the best games ever! This arena would go down in history; new tourists would flock to the site daily! They would become so rich from this Quarter Quell, the next one could be even better! They couldn't wait to get started!

Can't

I've tried letting her go. I've tried ignoring her, and I've pretended that the games never happened, that I never told everyone of my love for her on live television. It doesn't work, my whole life is centred around her now, and I'm tied to her by thousands of pieces of string, each piece is a strand of my soul. Every time she snaps a string, she pulls at my heart, breaking it apart, piece by piece. I've tried to distance myself from her, I've absorbed myself in painting, but I always end up painting her, I can't help it.

Heart

She had stolen my heart the day I laid eyes on her. Annie. Every time the reaping came about, I was more worried for her than I was for myself, I could feel my heart beating loudly against my ribcage, _thump thump._ I prayed every night that she should stay safe, but the horrors of the games had sent her over the edge. I had always known that Annie was delicate, I tried to help her, but the Capitol had just barged in and broken what was left of her mind. I love her; I don't care about anything else.

Imposter

She had come back a different person; it wasn't the Katniss that had left. The Capitol had messed with her mind and her body. What was left was a damaged interior covered up by a tough, emotionless shell. She wasn't the daughter I remembered before the games. She had been tough with me, she couldn't help it; she didn't want me to leave again. But when she was with Gale or Prim she would open up, she would smile and sometimes she even laughed. This cold daughter I had been given couldn't have been mine, she was like an imposter.

Never

I never let the enemy escape; I never give them the chance to turn against me. It was just how I roll. At the cornucopia I dove into the water, swimming strong strokes to the store of weapons in the centre. I grabbed a sword and knocked down a few where they stood. They were too scared to even enter the water. Wimps. They should have learnt to swim, never underestimate what your enemy is capable of, that's what I had been taught. I teamed up with some other people, I didn't bother learning names. Never beaten, that was me.

Game

There is more than one way to skin a rabbit. There is more than one way to win the games. The careers usually stuck together, killed everyone and then turned on each other. Others ran from the cornucopia and hid for the duration of the games. Some people pulled stunts in the interview, declaring undying love for someone or other, or gushing about their family and how they had promised to come home. I was clever, I pretended to be weak, and when I got to the final eight, I searched out my opponents, and I had beaten them all.

Flames

The girl on fire. That was who she was known as. The poster of her in the Capitol had been of her head and shoulders shot, flames licked at the edges, they mingled with her hair, creating an almost scary finish. In District 12, Katniss couldn't escape the flames, be it from the coal fires, or the baker's oven, or the fiery glares she got from the people. Katniss had played with fire and now she was burnt, still hurting inside at what the games had turned her into. She was a flaming beacon for the whole world to see.

Insomnia

Almost every tribute in the games suffers from insomnia. At night time, in every Victor's Village, you can hear the screams. Screams for the nightmares to end. Sometimes Peeta would stay up, not wanting to see the haunting images hidden behind his eyelids. Most times he could hear Katniss screaming; he was so close to her; he wanted to comfort her, he wanted to whisper soothing words in her ear, he wanted to brush her hair away from her face, he wanted to kiss away the nightmares. But he couldn't. Instead, he was trapped, each scream pulling at his heart.

Rebellion

I just need the wire; I had been promised that it would be there. If I had the wire, I could spark the rebellion, literally. The wheels of the battle were turning slowly; we had the poorer districts on our side, and District 13 was definitely in on the plan. Now was the time to set that plan into action, time to get the ball rolling down the hill and towards freedom. The only hitch in our plan was if Wiress and I were killed in the Bloodbath. The others would have to find another way to beat the Capitol.

Explode

I could feel it in my bones. _Tick Tock._ This was going to be huge. _Tick Tock._ Our time was ticking away towards an explosion._ Tick Tock._ Katniss hadn't got my message, I was warning her for the plan; I can remember snippets of conversations about it. _Tick Tock. _There was that wire at the cornucopia. _Tick Tock._ Johannah thinks I'm mad. _Tick Tock._ I probably am. I knew the games would be the end of me. My time is counting down; I won't be here for very much longer. _Tick Tock, Tick Tock, You're in for a shock, Tick..._

**A/N: I hope you liked them :D Please review, reviews are really helpful. Anyone else really excited for _Mockingjay?_ I definately am! :D:D**


	3. District Twelve

Death

It was unlikely that you would survive into old age in District 12. The starvation would probably reach you before you could even consider retirement plans. And; if by some miracle, you survived to see your hair turn grey, or fall out, don't kid yourself that you're set from then on. If you could manage to scrape by on the pension that was given to you, by all means, stop working, but it's more likely that you would have to continue toiling away in the mines. Some people thought it better to die young, if only to avoid the struggle.

Ice

The cold wind rattles through the hollow house, the winter is setting in. You don't kid yourself that you'll all survive through to the spring. There are seven mouths to feed and only one breadwinner. The children are already crying with hunger and you know as the winter arrives, the temperature will drop and the disease and sickness that comes every year will target your family just as they did last year, and the year before. You know people refer to you as the 'ice cold woman', but you know that you're not cruel and cold hearted, just a realist.

Strength

Being in District 12 required strength. Loading the trams in the coal mines needed strength, so did carrying heavy baskets. But surviving in District 12 required strength of mind. Anyone could throw around sacks of coal, but only the strong minded could keep their head when everything around them is going mad. A strong minded person needn't be optimistic or pessimistic, just level headed enough not to go insane with responsibility or too cowardly to take a chance. Katniss was strong minded, she was focussed on her task, keeping herself and her family alive; she didn't care about anything else.

Taboo

Mother never speaks of the Games. I'm not old enough for the reaping yet, but I can feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves when that time of the year comes around again, she's worried for all the children. I don't know how she's going to cope when I get entered into the reaping ball. I'm going to have to sign up for terrasae, we're just an average Seam family, more mouths than we can afford. I feel sorry for my mother; she can't help but get involved, it's just the way she is. I hope I'm not chosen.

Ritual

I sit in the firelight and watch the flames slowly toast my bread. My right hand tightens around the wooden stick that the bread has been stuck on. My left hand sits comfortably in my husband's, I squeeze it gently. We were just 18, my father had said that I was too young, but we had lived through two years of worry, this marriage was a sort of celebration for surviving the games. We couldn't afford much, but my mother had gone out early this morning to buy special bakery bread for the toasting. It's not much, but it's mine.

Interested

The games always sparked some curiosity in District 12. The people who took some sick delight in watching the poor children die were snubbed by the others. People mainly tried to console the family who had lost a child, or just got on with their lives and ignored the problem. But behind closed doors, people were sucked to their television sets; the Capitol knew how to keep their audience interested. The catch up shows were set up so that the action was cut off at the vital point, making sure that the viewer was going to tune in next time.

Coal

In District 12, you grew up to mine coal. No one questioned it, you just did. On the morning of your eighteenth birthday you would trudge along with everyone else heading towards the mines. You would sign your name in the book and get together with a team of people to work with. When your face was smeared with dust and grime and the sun had gone down in the sky, you would leave. You were paid daily, the amount depending on how much coal you and your team had mined. It was hard, but someone had to do it.

Timid

I had always been a timid child, I jumped at every little thing, and a spider could send me screaming away. The Seam kids at school had laughed at me, they told me to toughen up, they called me a soft little girly girl. My mother had told me that they were just jealous of my golden curls and secure lifestyle, and I believed her. Here I was now, my silky hair all tangled and dirty, the sundress I had been given to wear was a tattered rag and my sandals were long gone. Some courage would help right now.

Timeless

Some people had timeless beauty, District 12 did not. I had seen them on the television; the shots from above were of dirty houses, partly hidden by the thick fog that was being emitted from the mines. The people living in District 12 were no better; they all had murky brown hair, or dirty blonde. Was nothing clean in that place? There were dull greys and blues, no variation, just endless repeats of the same people, over and over again. In the Capitol, no one grew too old, no one grew too fat or too thin, we were all perfect.

Wealth

Health before wealth was a common saying in District 12. Save up your money for medicines, you can't save someone with expensive clothes. The Capitol had more than enough money to spare, but did they ever give to charity? You had more chance of being eaten by an elephant in the night than getting money from the Capitol. God help you if you dropped your money in the market. People would be on you like a shot, tearing the money from the stone pavement as you scrabble desperately, trying to get back as much of the money as you could.

Ending

It was all ending. Everything was burning; flames were falling from the sky. I ran screaming down the road. The hovercrafts buzzed angrily over head, they continued to shoot out the fireballs, aiming them at the mines, and the houses, everything was flammable. Fire was our weakness; the Capitol was burning our homes, our lives. Everyone was running and screaming around me. Some people had tried to escape underneath the fence, only to be electrocuted; their relatives were left to watch in horror as their eyeballs melted in their skulls. Everything was ending, who was there to save us?

Loss

You grieved the loss of a loved one; you spend days mourning, and the rest of your life remembering them. In District 12, you could take time off work, but you wouldn't get paid. You couldn't wallow in your sorrows; you were expected to deal with it, to move on. Everyone around you had lost someone as well, be it from the games or some other unfortunate incident, you just got used to it. People who couldn't cope with losing family members were left struggling in the mud, no one was going to help you; they had their own problems.

Velvet

The black velvet under my fingers tells me I must be dreaming. No one has velvet in District 12, only the mayor. The smooth material ripples as I stroke my hands lovingly across it. I follow the folds and creases with my fingertips, it's some sort of a dress, sleeveless and wonderful; I had never thought I would wear something so beautiful in my life! It was the new 'thing' in the Capitol, big puffball dresses, but their versions hadn't been made from velvet, or speckled with red and orange jewels. _And here we have the tributes from District 12!_

Evening

I crawled under the fence and grabbed my bow and arrow before heading off to where Katniss and I had planned to meet. The evening sun filtered through the trees, making long shadows behind me. A crunch sent me spinning around, arrow aimed and ready. It was Katniss, "You made me jump!" I laughed, relaxing my grip on my bow.

"'I'll think of it as an achievement. Come on, the rabbits won't wait forever" Katniss silently stepped forward, then turned to me again, "Are you coming?" the sun streamed behind her, golden rays shone past her hair, she was beautiful.

**A/N: I hope you liked them, please review. If you have any ideas for words you would like me to use, feel free to tell me :D**


	4. Peeta

Paints

I swirled the colours on the floor, mixing reds and yellows to make an orangey colour against the sandy boards of wood. I could hear murmurings behind my head; they don't know what I'm doing because I've knelt with my back to them. I wasn't planning on moving until I was completely finished. I daubed my fingers in the yellow and smoothed circles of it onto Rue's image. It was the sunset from her last evening. The spear in her stomach was ugly and harsh in colour, I was done. I stood and left the room, listening to their gasps.

Eating

You sold the good bread and ate the bad. That's how life worked in a bakery. Never would you be able to taste your work, if it was decent enough looking to sell, then it was sold. The beautifully decorated cakes in the window could only be eaten if they went stale, no one would buy stale cakes. Sometimes you felt you would rather be from the Seam, if only so you could hunt out fresh food every day, instead of living on tough old bread. But the starving children haunt you, so you take your bread and eat it.

Echo

He came back from the games a changed man. The happy glint that was always in his eye had gone, even when he had been given a smack for doing something wrong, it had been there. He didn't laugh any more, he didn't smile; he didn't do anything. Sure, the house we lived in now was roomier, and we could afford a better oven for baking bread in, but it was like Peeta had never come back from the games. He was a shadow of the boy he once was. He was an echo of the man he might become.

Tolerant

Peeta would sit at the dining table with a plate of cakes beside him. He would ice each one differently; no two patterns were the same. Like snowflakes, he liked to think, each one unique and beautiful. He tried to teach his older brother how to do it once; he sat him down at the table and gave him a cake and the decorations. His brother had tried, but he hadn't been gentle enough, his impatient hands had made the cake look hurried and the picture was askew. Peeta was the cake maker in the family, he had the patience.

Antagonistic 

Sometimes I feel like the antagonist in this story that is our life. I knew Gale loved Katniss, I could have kept my mouth shut; I didn't have to declare my undying love for her on live television. I knew that at least one of us would have to die and I had just made it a whole lot more humiliating for Katniss. I did it to save my own skin, to get sponsors, I was selfish. I could just imagine Gale's face; shock, then realisation, then anger at me for taking away his chance of happiness. I was heartless.

**A/N: I hope you liked this. I'm planning on doing a few more like this, any preferences on which characters I use? Please comment x**


	5. Haymitch

Horror

They left me to live with the horror, the memories. They left me with continuous images running through my mind, dead tribute after dead tribute. They had made me watch the videos through again, cementing it in my mind. It was like some sick minded horror film, filled with blood and guts and gore. But there's no hero in this story, just a tired and traumatized winner. I didn't get the girl, I didn't live happily ever after. I'm not living, just existing, if you opened me up all you would see is death and destruction, horror reflected in me.

Abernathy

They all knew his name. He could hear the screams from the crowds, "Abernathy!", "Haymitch!" "District 12!" He hated it; he remembered when he was just another faceless teenager from District 12. He wanted to go back in time, he didn't care if it meant he was poor and starving, at least he didn't have the nightmares. The games had shot him to fame and fortune, everyone knew everything about him, what his favourite colour was, what he liked to eat. They even knew things that Haymitch didn't know himself! Haymitch just wished he could go back, nameless and faceless.

Years

It had been years. I had been plagued with nightmares for years. In twenty five years, I had sent fifty children to their deaths. In twenty five years I had slowly slid down a downwards spiral, free falling in some places, just slowly drinking the time away. Spending as much time as possible trying to forget what I had to live with. Drinking blurred the images; it made them more bearable to look at or, at least, when I was drunk I didn't give a damn at what I was looking at. Victors had to find a way to cope.

Murder

It was murder. I was knelt here in a growing pool of blood, _her __blood._ Maysilee gripped at my hands, her own were slippery from the blood, I could feel its warm stickiness seeping through my trousers, staining my skin forever red, it could be washed off, but this feeling that I have right now would never go away. It attacked me; churning my stomach, stabbing at my head, screaming _murder!_ It wasn't fair; I had known at least one of us had to die, but why now? Why like this? The Capitol didn't see it as murder, just entertainment.

Insane

People thought he was insane. Drinking and cursing, stumbling around the street. The Capitol had shot him to fame and they hadn't cared where he landed. He was a broken man, haunted by the memories of dying children, screaming for mercy, praying that it wouldn't be them, sobbing their last few days away. He had tried, those first few years, if he could win, what was stopping anyone else from staying alive? But they never survived, he had to watch them perish, he had to walk by the mourning families every day. It could have sent anybody over the edge.

Touch

He woke up screaming, he couldn't help it, out came the sound and his mother came running.

"What is it? What is it?" She knelt down beside his bed and took his hand in hers

"I had a nightmare, I-" He was cut short by a sob escaping his mouth, his mother pulled him into a hug, gently rocking him as more tears slid down his face. She murmured comforting words in his ear, and when he was finished, she lay him back down and tucked him in.

Haymitch was never touched like that anymore, he had no one now.

Children

Haymitch would never have children for a multitude of reasons. No one would want to marry him; he was just the drunk victor, good for a laugh at the reaping ceremonies, a bit of comic relief. The amount of alcohol he managed to drink each day had severely lowered his chances of ever having a child. But the main factor in his decision not to settle down and start a family was because of the games. How could he bring up a child, his child, knowing that one day they could be entered into the games? It wasn't being selfish.

Harm

"You'll come to no harm here; come with us, our camp is only through those trees there."

"No, no, no!" Haymitch growled as the last District 12 tribute followed the burly career through the trees. Why did he get given such thick tributes? He knew that the Capitol could fix things, why couldn't they get him some decent tributes for once? Just once! Maybe it would give him a better chance at winning this godforsaken game. The careers were circling her, she was panicking. Haymitch looked away, but that didn't stop him hearing the crunch as they snapped her neck.

**A/N: Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot to update this week! Thanks to Reader-1996 for her reviews. Please review this chapter everyone :) Especially you silent story stalkers, reviews from you would be DELIGHTFUL :D  
**


	6. Finnick

Final   
Killing someone was final. Death was final. I watched as the boy from District 2 squirmed on the floor, my trident was buried deep in his stomach. He cried out for help, there was no one coming for him; I had already taken out the rest of the careers. I didn't stick with them at the start, they were sick minded killing machines, but here I was, doing the exact same thing. The canon sounded and I felt sick, I had killed other tributes before, but only now I realised how savage I had become. Dying was final, and inevitable.

Interest  
I was interested in the Katniss girl. I had to admit, "The girl on Fire" had more of a ring to it than,"Finnick, that gorgeous one from District 4". I wanted to know how she had stolen the spotlight from me, I was the most loved victor; how did she get so many fans when she hadn't even won yet? Then there was that stunt her District partner had pulled. Love? You couldn't love someone in the games and come out with your heart intact afterwards, everyone knew that. Katniss confused me, so did Peeta, I wanted to know more.

Naïve   
"But why should I run at the cornucopia? I'm District 4; I could be with the careers." The silly girl flicked her blonde hair behind her ear.  
"You should run because the careers aren't going to want you working with them. You'd be slaughtered on the first night!" I growled through gritted teeth. When was she going to understand that the world isn't a nice place to be? You can't trust everyone you meet, especially in the games! At least she could run fast, that might get her somewhere. But she was 17! She can't be that naïve, can she?

Numb   
I don't feel anything anymore. I can pretend, all the victors pretend. If they show what they're really thinking then they're bound to get bumped off by the Capitol sooner or later. I'm numb; nothing I do is natural anymore. Every laugh or smile is forced. You'll never see a tear in my eye. The cheeky kisses I blow at my adoring fans are fuelled by regret. Living means nothing to me anymore, but what else is there to do? I won't let the Capitol win against me, I don't care what they throw at me next, I'll fight back.

Infatuated   
He knew it was silly, he could have, should have, left her years ago. But instead he stayed with her. He sat with her when she cried; he held her hand and stroked her hair. Not that it did any good, she didn't recognise him anymore, she didn't recognise anyone; the games sent her mad. But with her he stayed. He was infatuated, hopelessly lost and in love with Annie. He was tied to her with miles of the strongest rope, he was ensnared by her; he couldn't let her go. He watched for the hints of before the nightmare.

Calm  
The calm before the storm, that's what you would call it. It was a common enough saying in District 4, enjoy the fine fishing weather for now, but a storm is coming so be ready to run. When you looked after Annie, sometimes she would curl up into her own world, which was the calm before she lashed out again, scratching at your face, screaming about hidden killers that weren't actually there. Now you're in the games again, it's anything but calm. You rerun the plan in your mind, the final storm. There'll be no calm for a while yet.

Kill  
He hadn't killed; he didn't know what it felt like. He hadn't experienced the recurring nightmares of seeing their faces in their last moments. He didn't run it over in his head. He didn't think of how he could have changed it. The Capitol had said he had killed the girl who lit the fire. But that wasn't killing, she was going to die anyway, the careers had seen to that, he had only made it come faster; he helped her end her suffering. Peeta would never know what it felt like. I would kill to feel the same way.

**A/N: Tadaa :) Hope you liked it. Please review :D Thanks to my reviewers :)**


	7. Prim

Pathways

I had met a crossroad. What way should I go? Should I fall apart, lose my mind like Mother, loudly and messily? Or should I keep a brave face on, pretend that everything is fine. My final option was to hide; lock myself away at home, quietly break up into a thousand little pieces when no one is watching. But I was in charge now, I couldn't just leave. Mother wouldn't be able to cope without me, sure she could tend her patients, but she needed me there. If I couldn't heal then what was I? A cowardly, little girl.

Rue

It could have been me, standing up there. Shivering and scared out of my wits. I wouldn't have been able to stay as calm as her. She knew she was going to die, but she let no panic show on her face. Turned out that she had more of a chance than surviving than me, she ran and climbed like nobody else. The way Katniss acted with her reminds me of how she used to treat me. She was free and fun loving, I was almost jealous of the affection Rue was getting. But she died, and Katniss's heart broke.

Ideal

In an ideal world, Prim wouldn't be chosen for the games. Katniss wouldn't volunteer for her. In an ideal world, I wouldn't be knelt on the cold stone floor with Prim sobbing into my shoulder. I wouldn't feel her salty tears seeping through my shirt. In an ideal world, we might have been born into the Merchants, or the Capitol! We would watch as someone else's sister sacrificed herself for entertainment. In an ideal world, we would have won the rebellion and the Everdeens and the Hawthorns could live in peace. Katniss would wipe away Prim's tears instead of me.

Mother

Mother can mean so many things to so many people. Katniss only sees Mother as being ill in the head and untrustworthy. Madge's mother is spoken of, but never seen. Gale's mother makes me think of warmth and happiness, she works her fingers to the bone for her children and for me; she's like an auntie to me. My mother is perfect, Katniss may think otherwise, but I love her. Katniss thinks that she's ill. There must be some herb or potion that I can mix and make her drink. I'm training to heal; I can fix her too, right?

**A/N: Yeah, I know the third one is more Gale than Prim, but I think it went alright. I'm still open to suggestions :P. Please review x**


	8. Gale

God

If there was a God out there, maybe he just wasn't looking the right way at the moment. Some old women clutched crosses around their necks, their knuckles white. But any jewellery worth having in my family had been sold generations ago. Any faith that my family believed in had died out when the games were introduced. There was no time for prayer or repentance in my family, we either worked, or we starved. If God was always listening, then why did he let Prim get chosen for the games? Why didn't he do something? He could have stopped it.

Alone

Hunting alone is good; no one can disturb you or the game. When you're alone you don't have to worry about looking out for someone else, you just have to keep yourself safe. But, in life, you're rarely alone. You're born and you have a mother and father, you grow up with brother and sisters, you make friends, you make more than friends. Only, the one person I wouldn't care being with for the rest of eternity had already met her future husband. They had to be together forever, like it or not. I was a cousin, unnecessary and alone

Losing

If life was a game, I was losing badly. I had been dealt a bad hand in life and now I was paying for it. As the years went by, I slowly slipped down the leader board. Other people had made their situation work; others had been given a new set of cards. My tactics to life weren't working; hunt, work, sleep. It had worked for Katniss, why not me? Had I been disqualified for copying her? That wouldn't be fair; I started hunting long before her. I tried to make it work, there had to be something that worked.

Exit

I wouldn't go quietly, slip into the dark, never to be seen again. I wouldn't whimper and cry like a baby in the face of death. I would exit this world with a bang; I would be courageous and menacing. I would go for a good reason, not because of disease or starvation. I would have defied the Capitol, so much so that it would be impossible for me to be an Avox, they would have to kill me. And in my final moments, I would look up at the sky and smile. I would be with Father soon enough.

A/N: Does anyone know any good words beginning with X? I was thinking of doing an Avox one, but if I have no X then it would only be an Avo, and those aren't in the Hunger Games, or anything else for that matter. Please review :D 


	9. Avox

Abhorrent

I was going to be an avox. I was sure that it was just an injection that would prevent me from talking. How wrong I was. They tied me down and came at me with a menacing pair of scissors. There was blood everywhere, I tried to scream but I only managed to cough up more blood. Then they waved a white hot metal spoon in my face, I could feel it sizzling at my beard. They said it was to seal the wound; I had to let them do it. So I did. My flesh sizzled and I screamed.

Value

You got used to having an avox around. They stood behind you at mealtimes; they picked up what you had dropped. They were like a second shadow. You only noticed them when they weren't there. They were replaced soon enough, but for those few days when you were by yourself, you learnt to really value them being there. You learnt that you had to pick up what you left behind, tidy up your own mess. But all those lessons were forgotten when you got a new avox, it was like changing your hair, a new one to match your outfit.

Obey

As an avox, you were expected to serve the Capitol. You had to follow through on the orders that you were given, silently and without objection. You were trapped into lifelong servitude, with no chance of escape. You could have obeyed the laws and kept your head down, but instead you ignored it, and now you were making up for it. But it would never be enough, there was no retirement awaiting you when you hit 60. You would serve until you died and you would be grateful. At least you were fed something and had a place to sleep.

Xenophobia

They were weird freaks of nature. They defied the Capitol, and now they were paying for it. Silently skulking in the shadows, never speaking, not that they could. They deserved what they had, and I could see in their eyes that they knew they were defeated. As time went by, their eyes lost their spark and dulled. Apart from one. He had long dark hair and bottle green eyes, and a wicked smile to match. He scared me; he would face the beatings we gave him with a grin. Even when we whipped the skin off his back, he smiled.

**A/N: What do you think of my _Xenophobia, _swanky word or what? Sorry for using short words as of late, I honestly didn't realise :P PLease review :)**


	10. Johanna

Joke

I was a joke; I could almost hear the Capitol sniggering at me as I stumbled towards the raised platform, my face gummed up with tears and snot, I was worse than a baby, at least a baby had some control over themselves. I looked like an idiot, but this was my plan, I had to be weak, they had to think I was going to die. I wouldn't get any sponsors from it, but I wouldn't be hunted down by careers in the arena either. Sure, I didn't have much dignity now, but the joke would be on them.

Oath

I had made an oath with myself when I was seven; I wouldn't die in the arena, I wouldn't let the Capitol win this fight. I had read all the history books at school, analysed every move the Districts had made, what had gone wrong and how to fix it. If there was ever another rebellion I would be ready to fight, and if there wasn't another rebellion, I would know how to start one. I would fight back, I wouldn't just be another victor, broken and left to die. I would be a part of the uprising for freedom.

History

What was done was done. I had killed, but so had everybody. Every victor was a murderer. In all the books about the games every person was listed, and underneath each name was a list of who they had killed. The first name was Gem Allstone, she had killed six people, including a twelve year old from District 11. What she had done was brutal and vicious, what I had done was awful as well. But it was history, what I did now was to look into the future, why dwell in the past? It's a bad place for me.

Adorable

I was never the adorable type, if you wanted a cutesy little girl with pretty pigtails sprouting out of her head, go and look in District 1. That's where all the well off people lived, the girls were decked out in pink frocks and the boys in little suits, no one was poor in District 1; it was a cute fluffy heaven, filled with rainbows and pink unicorns. District 2 was the same, if not worse! At least in 4, you were put to work, you had that young innocence knocked out of you before it began to manifest itself.

Negligence 

I had tried, I really had tried. I wanted another victor for my District. It meant that I wouldn't have to mentor anymore. I wouldn't have to watch as children met their sticky ends and know that it probably had something to do with me. If I said run at the cornucopia, then they would be caught and tortured. If I said fight at the cornucopia, they would be dead before they even stepped off their plate! I should have told them how to manage with the hunger, to ignore the pain. It was my negligence that had killed them.

Necessary

What I had done what necessary for my survival.. It should have been a straight line, reaping to winning. But why did there have to be so many twists and turns in it? Like the boy who had her face smashed repeatedly on a rock, blood and brains had splattered me as I ran from the cornucopia and what was left couldn't really have been described as a face at all. Why did the smallest girl have to cry and scream so loudly for her parents as I advanced on her with a knife? I just wanted to leave alive.

Altruistic 

Some people thought that Peeta Mellark was selfless; he was ready to kill himself to save Katniss. What a laugh, if he had known the trouble he was going to cause, he would have killed himself before telling Katniss, before she talked him out of it and gave him an alternative. He would have ended his life before it all went wrong. Katniss would still be the Mockingjay, we would still have our rebellion, but it would be so much simpler. We wouldn't have to keep Peeta alive for her. Some people think he's altruistic, I think he's just stupid.

**A/N: Gosh, I have been a while updating, I am truly sorry. Real life got the better of me for a while there, I was playing in a concert on Friday, Saturday was filled with saturday things and Sunday was spent procrastinating. I hope this makes up for it, please review :) xx**


	11. Prep Team

Perfection

The prep team had to get their tribute perfect before passing them onto the stylist. Every inch of their body had to be scrubbed clean. Every hair had to be taken off every girl, apart from the hair on her head, which was usually infested with lice. Every boy was clean shaven and sprayed with a chemical to stop them from growing a beard in the arena; if they started to look like men then the fun of the games would be lost. The tributes were smothered in body butter and their hair was washed, brushed and restyled if necessary.

Realisation

You work hungrily on the tribute you've been given. They don't smile, they never do. You don't understand why they don't smile, this makeover is worth thousands of credits and they're getting it for free, surely they should be happy? You work on their hair, plaiting or straightening or some other fancy style. But still they don't smile. They stare blankly ahead at themselves in the mirror, their eyes dead, showing no emotion. You think it's ungrateful, you're working really hard and they don't say anything. Then you realise, they won't smile because they could be dead by next week.

Excitement

Waiting for my tribute to come through the door was one of the most exciting parts of the games for me. Some years, I didn't watch the reapings so the tribute I was given could be a complete surprise. It was like when a mother asked not to be told the gender of their baby, the excitement would just build up and up until you were ready to explode! Sometimes it was a disappointment if you had heard rumours about big, bronzed, gorgeous tributes from District 1, 2 and 4, and ended up with a pale, skinny twig from 12.

Peeping

Sneaking a look at the costumes for the chariot ride was almost a tradition for the prep team. The measurements had been sent in advance so the costumes could be made in time. Most of them could keep it a secret that they had looked, but others couldn't control heir giggles. You could hear a snigger from behind a hand as the tribute entered the room, the tribute sometimes looked hurt but most times they had a glazed look about them. You could picture them in the costume, they nearly always looked hideous, but you knew how to fix them.

Twelve

"I want District 12, please." Cinna hadn't worried about missing out on his spot; no one wanted District 12, apart from him, obviously.

"Can I see your design for the first showing of the tributes?" This was expected of all stylists applying for the games, if they were rubbish, then they were given District 11 or 12, or just not given the job. Cinna placed his designs carefully on the table; he had worked non-stop for the past month, he had to get his job. The man didn't even look at them, "Ok, you can have 12", Cinna was ecstatic.

Enthusiastic

They hustled and bustled around you, flicking your hair, pulling at your clothes, inspecting teeth and nails, and all with a stupid grin on their face and a silly little comment to match. They said they loved the colour of your hair, but they changed it, they liked your eyes and they make you wear contacts, you were an example of excellent health but they still put you in figure hugging clothes to reveal your body to the crowds. You were fine with that, it was just the smile they wore constantly on their faces, they were way too happy.

Annoying

Like a little bee buzzing in your ear, you always had a stylist or a member of your prep team floating around you. If it were possible for them to come into the games with you, you wouldn't find it surprising if they followed close behind you, fixing a stray bit of hair or insisting that you brush your teeth, to keep up appearances. They would give away your position in seconds. What they were doing was nice, you had to admit, the clothes were gorgeous and the make-up was to die for. But you'd never met anyone more annoying

Master

I was the master at my job; skilled hands ran down the material, fixing sequins and jewels to the dress. The sleeves were just made out of large sequins that had been sewn together. There was no back to it but the front was made from a bottle green material that grew into a puffball skirt as it reached the tribute's hips. The skirt was covered in emeralds and diamonds, weighing it down massively, but the tribute would have to deal with that, I was aiming for beauty, not comfort. My prep team loved me and I was so excited.

**A/N: I promised myself I would update yesterday, but I only had an hour at home before I had to go out again, I'm sorry! The awards ceremony I went to was pans anyway, they said they would be finished at 9.30, they weren't, so I said "I have to go...to play in my recorder concert!" I mean, come on, 9.30 at night? I was stupid, but it worked :] Please review xx**


	12. Mrs Undersee

Memento 

Mother had given it to her on her first reaping day. The mockingjay pin, she had been admiring it in the jewellery shop for weeks. I wasn't a particularly fussy child, so I had been bought a cupcake from the bakers; it had pleased me well enough. When she was chosen and had to say her goodbyes, she took her hands in mine and looked into my eyes, "When I die, I want you to have my pin". I took the pin from the tattered clothes they sent her back in, and in time, passed it onto my own daughter.

Remember

I could remember her scream, there was only one. The bird had sliced her vocal chords and she was left to choke on her own blood. Haymitch had knelt next to her; he took her hand and held it to his lips. Damn him, it should have been me sitting there with her, I should have held her hand, I should have told her it would be alright. No, I should have volunteered in her place, then I wouldn't have to remember her pain and suffering, it would have been my suffering and my pain. It should have been me.

Sister

She was my sister, I should have looked after her, but she was always the dominant twin. She was the one everyone remembered. Katniss and Primrose were sisters. Everyone remembered Prim's sweet smile and sweet nature. People only took notice of Katniss when she had game. Katniss volunteered for Prim. Why didn't I volunteer for Maysilee? I had grabbed her hand desperately as she tried to go up to the platform it was only the cool hands easing mine from hers that finally undid our death hold. It was Maysilee's friend, the medic's daughter. She was crying, my tears reflected.

Unloved

Maysilee was the favourite child. She always got what she wanted. Father would always pick her up and swing her around in the air until she laughed with happiness. He said it was like water gurgling in a stream, he loved to hear her laugh. I was the forgotten daughter; I was happy to curl up in a corner with a novel or some sewing while Maysilee would go out and play with the other merchant children. I would study while she flirted with the baker's son. When she died, I grew old and unloved, while she stayed eternally young.

Naughty

"Stop it, Madge. Put it back!" Sausage like fingers snaked around the badge in the jewelled box. Madge was just turning three, she was curious of all things sparkly and interesting looking. Mrs Undersee had already hidden away all her other jewellery but she just couldn't hide the mockingjay pin away and unseen. She had left it in her jewellery box in the hope that Madge didn't find it, but she had. "Madge, darling, please put it back." Madge dropped the pin back in the box. She turned to her mother and waved her fists in the air, "Love you."

Daughter

She was convinced it was a girl. She wouldn't believe there was a chance it could be a boy. She rubbed at her stomach in an absent minded way while murmuring, "Mummy's little angel" or "Precious little girl." I didn't know what to do, what if it was a boy? She was already delicate, how would she cope? She was already making a list of possible names, all girls' names. A recurring note on all the scraps of paper left around the house was, "Middle name: Maysilee". I knew that was her sister. She thought this would bring her back.

Entered

The way reaping worked wasn't fair, some children from the Seam had more entries on their first reaping than others from the merchant side of town had on their last. Even with huge advantage that some people had, they still managed to get chosen. Maysilee and I never signed up for extra food, she was still picked. Prim was only entered once and she was picked for the games. Madge would never have to enter herself to feed us. There was still the chance that she could be picked. Entering the reaping was compulsory; the chances of surviving were slim.

Ruined

My plan was ruined. I loved Maysilee, I was going to propose to her when she was 19 and out of the games. But she was chosen, and she died. I was left with her sister, they were identical. What would the difference be? Turns out they were only identical in looks. They were polar opposites. Where Maysilee was sunshine and smiles, her sister was dark moods and headaches. She was quiet and subdued, I learnt to love her. It wasn't the same as I would have been with Maysilee. The raw emotions that I felt with her were missing.

Sunflower

Sunflowers were my mother's favourite flower. She would have them in a vase next to her bed; I think they helped her sleep. Sometimes I would ask Katniss to pick some sunflowers when she went hunting. I paid a lot for them; I would do anything to see my mother smile. She never smiled, not for as long as I could remember. I got worse when the sunflowers stopped growing in the winter, she would still keep the dead ones by her bed, in some vain hope that they might come back to life. They never did, she never smiled.

Elderberry

Mrs Undersee was like an elderberry tree. Perfectly safe looking on the outside, but when you dug deeper and looked closer you realised that it was a lot worse than it seemed. Elderberry wood contained cyanide, death. Mrs Undersee contained stories of death and hurt, the pain that she went through on a daily basis made you feel almost nauseous. If you ate the leaves of the elderberry plant, you could be poisoned. If you asked the wrong question, you could send her down a spiralling slope. The berries were safe enough, don't pry too far, she'll only get hurt.

End

When would the suffering end? It hurt so much. It ripped at the inside of my head, like ten million tiny hammers pounding away at my skull. I writhed in my bed, tossing the covers off in the process. I pulled at my hair and screamed at the wall. I didn't care who heard me, this hurt too much for me to give a damn at who was listening. If I screamed loud enough I could just mask the fire in my head. The flames roared down my throat and behind my eyes, hot salty tears ran down my face.

**A/N: I didn't know Mrs Undersee's first name, so I just went with Mrs. I hope to have the first chapter of my drabble-fied Hunger Games up by Sunday, any ideas for a title? I don't think "Drabble-fied Hunger Games" would cut it :P But on Monday I'm lending my copy of the book to a friend so the second chapter may be a bit of a wait away. Here is, as always, here is the plea for reviews. Please review! xx**


	13. Posy

Please

"Please can I have some?" Posy pulled on my hunting bag, her pink fingers tugging me down to her level. I crouched down in front of her,

"No, not yet. This is for our dinner tonight, Posy. Can you wait that long?" I poked her stomach, she giggled and tried to poke me back but I grabbed her and threw her up in the air. She laughed as I caught her and swung her around. "Next time, I might even bring you some strawberries! Would you like that?" I put her back down.

"Yes please! Please can you bring strawberries?"

Older

When I'm older, I'm going to help Gale get food. Katniss helps him already, but I'd be better. Katniss is rich now; she and Gale aren't friends anymore. I can help Gale now. Sometimes I try to follow him into the woods, but he always sees me and takes me home again. I want to help; Gale needs me to help him. When I'm older, I'll be able to get food. I hear Gale talking about how he won't let us, he can hunt. But I want to help, if I can't hunt with him, I'll get food somewhere else.

Somewhere

"Where has Katniss gone, Mummy?"

"Somewhere away from here, darling."

"Can I go there too?"

"I'm not sure you would want to go, Posy."

"Yes I do. You can come too, Gale, Vick and Rory can all come."

"Why would you want to go?"

"Because Gale misses Katniss, he doesn't smile anymore. If we go, then he can see her again. Then he'll be happy, won't he?"

"I think we should stay here Posy."

"Can Gale go by himself?"

"No, he has to stay here too."

Posy paused, stuck for a question, "Mummy, will Katniss come back to District 12?"

Young

She was so young. She was only five or six, but there she was, watching as her brother was beaten into the dirt. She's holding tightly onto her mother's hand, looking up occasionally at her face and then looking back again. She never knew that hunting was illegal, why should she have to know? Gale found the food, she ate it. Her brothers knew that it was illegal, but food was food, they had nothing to with it, they were free until Gale couldn't hunt anymore, which could be now. Posy was crying now, sobbing quietly into her mother's skirt.

**A/N: Here is another chapter for you lovely lot :) So, do you want Clove or Cato next? Please review x**


	14. Cato

Calm

Be calm, if you lose your head at the cornucopia then you could lose your life. That's what my mentor had told me, not that I didn't know that already. I had been training all my life and all he had to offer me was that one little titbit of advice. I would be in control at the bloodbath. It wouldn't my blood spilling out onto the floor, but I would be the one putting it there. I had District 1 and 4 with me. Clove was definitely on my side. I would stand brave in the face of death.

Afterwards

After this hell was over, wherever I ended up, I would find Clove. I wouldn't care if it was a fiery pit of hell or a frozen shelf of blistering ice. Even after the mutations had torn me limb from limb, I would drag myself to her, however far. Katniss was peering over the edge of the cornucopia. My screams had ceased, the mutt's growls had stopped too. I was still alive, it wasn't fair. I was going to win. After I had won I was going to be famous. I would be rich, my family would be eternally grateful.

Thresh

He was tired, I could tell. He wasn't running as fast. His breathing was loud and laboured. His feet crashed through the corn field. I was fine, I had been trained. I could go on for much longer than this. I tracked his path through the field; it wasn't difficult; it would have been harder to track an elephant. I found him in the clearing. He was lying on his side he had tried to hide himself with mud and grass. His foot was caught in a root and twisted at a funny angle. I took out my sharpened knife.

Odd

She was an odd girl. She could have chosen to train in swords or bows and arrows. But she chose knives. I asked her why and she said, "It's a close range weapon. I'd like to see their pain when I kill them." I had avoided her for a while after that, she was slightly scary, but I couldn't admit that to my friends. Scared by a girl, I would lose any respect I had. I was drawn back to her though; she was intriguing; she was amazing with her knives. She could hit a spot from 20 metres away.

**A/N: It's another short one, sorry :P So any preferences for who I do next? Please review :)**


	15. Clove

Castle

I could have been anything. I could have been a scientist, or an inventor. I could have been anything. But here I was, playing this damn game. That's all it was, a game. I was the castle in chess. I saw the solution to the problem and I would go straight there. I was in the games, I had to win. If I wanted to win, I would have to kill the opposition. I would squash the pawns into the mud. I would murder the knights and rooks. I would slash and slice at the king and queen. Check mate.

Living

Existing was good; I could deal with just being there. I didn't mind watching as life passed me by. If I shut my eyes, I could just pretend that life was going the way that I wanted to. If I just went along with what was said, I wouldn't have to get involved. I knew how much it could hurt if I tried to help. If I actually paid attention, I wouldn't be able to kill, I wouldn't survive. I just let my instincts fill my body and let the wild animal out to play. It was a cruel world.

Over

I had her life in my hands; it could be over very soon. Her eyelids could close over her eyes for one last time, or she could die with them open, I didn't care which. I just wanted it to be over.

This was it. I was going to die. "Cato!" he wouldn't come, he was too far away. It was over. I had lost. Whatever there was between us had dissolved. I was nothing anymore, just a forgotten tribute. Our love plan hadn't worked, it hadn't been done before, but 12 stole it from us. The game was over.

Vain

To put it simply, Glimmer was an idiot. She claimed to be good with a bow and arrow, she wasn't. Glimmer was more interested in keeping her hair straight then trying to stay alive. She would admire her reflection in the water while getting a drink. If she passed any reflective surface, she would have to stop and look at herself in it. I even caught her trying to glimpse herself in a glossy leaf. I was glad she was dead; there was no room for blonde, vain, idiots on our team. If only District 12 hadn't stolen the bow.

Edge

The knives gave me an edge. No one else could throw them like I could. No one else knew how to incapacitate the enemy but leave them alive for another few days, I could leave them writhing in pain, they would die without dignity. They would die in the dirt. That was what the games were about. You kill; you make the killing interesting to amuse yourself and the Capitol. If the Capitol was happy, you were less likely to have mutts set on you in the night. The knives gave me a steely edge, no one messed with me.

**A/N: Hope you liked it, although it didn't turn out exactly as I would have liked :S Oh well, what can you do? I have a poll now :) Check it out, you can choose who I write about next. Please review, I love reviews xx**


	16. Effie

Enemy

Haymitch was drunk. He was always drunk. It was like a battle strategy that he followed through with great accuracy. Well, as accurate as you can be once you've downed at least half of the alcoholic beverages in this damned District. We were natural enemies. I always tried to make him seem presentable, but he drank himself into oblivion before I could even set a finger on him. I was going to win this war. I didn't care how drunk he was. The next time he shows me up in public I swear I'll make an avox out of him.

Fidget

"Stop fidgeting, no one will want to sponsor you if all you do is fiddle!" Effie slapped at the hand of the female tribute from District 12,

"But it itches! Please let me take it off." The girl was dressed a long, net skirt that stuck out in all directions, her long sleeved top was made out of some new, expensive material. She was covered in coal dust as well. She had shown no sort of personality when she was in the chariot so we had kept with the coal theme. The dust smudged her face and darkened her hair.

Fodder

The way that they heaped the food into their hands and shovelled it into their mouths was disgusting. Crumbs fell onto the tablecloth and floor, splatters of jam stained their clothes. What was the point of giving them such wonderful food if they were going to treat it like this? It looked like they hadn't seen food for years; they were like animals at a trough. We could have given them animal fodder for all they cared. The girl coughed loudly before grabbing the orange juice and gulping it down. The boy wiped his hands on the table. How rude!

Intriguing

"Yes, that's the girl from District 12. She volunteered in place of her sister, how brave! I know she doesn't look like much now, but if you put coal under enough pressure, they're sure to turn into pearls!" Effie chatted casually with the spectators in the box; this was where the real sponsors were. "She's such a mysterious girl; don't you want to know more?" Haymitch might not be helping his tributes, but Effie would try her best. It was intriguing how much she cared for the tributes this year. She was sure that District 12 could win this year.

Endless

These interviews were endless. Why did District 12 always have to be last? It was useful for the tributes because they would be remembered. But it was so dull for me! I had to sit and watch while tribute after tribute went by. Most of the other escorts had left by the time my tributes made an appearance. I could have left before they came on, but I had to wait for them, so I could tell them what I thought of them. The boy was twitching. Why? I had made him practice sitting still! Why did I even bother?

**A/N: Does this make up for my failing at updating? I am truly sorry. Hope you enjoyed it, please review :)**


	17. Cinna

Control

I didn't have to lash out. I didn't have to scream at anyone. All my emotions that could hurt anybody went into my work. No one got hurt that way. I had no enemies, except those who I had outshone, obviously. My fingers stitched away at the cloth feverishly. I could have asked an avox to do it for me, but where was the fun in that? I could give them the patterns and have it made, but then it would just be a costume. No thoughts of feelings went into making it. I poured my heart into my work.

Indescribable

"Oh, that costume is gorgeous!" A woman wearing an overly large orange hat nudged excitedly at her husband, "Do you know who made it?"

Her husband flicked through the programme. District 12 was at the back, he held the page up for his wife to see, "It says it was made by Cinna, have you heard of him before?"

"No, he must be new. Well, he's certainly up for the job. His costumes are brilliant!"

"Yes, they are. See how the flames on their cloaks match the ones painted on the chariot?"

"He's a magnificent stylist. Those costumes are perfect!"

Nature

I could feel it inside. I was supposed to do this. It made me happy. I could finally give a little bit of my happiness to the tributes that were sent to their deaths year after year. I could make this work; I hoped I wouldn't be hated by the children who were sent to me. I really wanted to make them happy. This was second nature to them, they had grown up with the games; the risk that they would be chosen. I had grown up with the games too, but I would never have to enter the arena.

Nurture

He should have stayed in the family business. Buying land in the Capitol, building a set of offices or houses on it, and then selling it on. But no, his stupid mother had to teach him how to sew. He just had to love designing clothes. Why did she let him? I offered to get him a job in my company when he turned 18, and do you know what he said? "Sorry Dad, I want a job designing costumes for the Hunger Games." I hit the roof! Only girls wanted to design clothes! He was no son of mine.

Aftermath

What happened? I just remember Katniss waiting on the podium, and then the guards came in and…they beat me up? I wriggle my fingers and pain shoots up my arm, yes, they definitely beat me up. My head was pounding and I could feel scabs beginning to form on my face. It was no less than I had expected, the stunt I had pulled at the interviews was sure to make some people angry. I just hoped it hadn't affected Katniss, she could be dead. Dead. What I had done could have killed her, my stupid stunt. I was stupid.

**A/N: Hope you liked this chapter :) Is it Capitol/secondary character enough for you? :P Please review xx**


	18. Rue

Rich

You didn't need lots of money to be rich. My family was rich with love. Love didn't buy you food or clothes, but it was nice to know that I had a family to come home to. The Capitol stripped me of any affection; I had no friends in here. Only the birds, but they would trust anyone who gave them food. I had no home, only the trees. The Capitol made us live like vagrants before killing us off, slowly. Katniss was rich; she would be even richer when she won. I was poor and homeless. No love here.

Understanding

I knew why she did it. She tried to help; if I was her I would have done the same. I was the small, defenceless tribute, the one who had no hope. She watched me like an overprotective mother. This alliance wouldn't last long, one of us would die. I would die. I understood why she felt that she had to help me. She didn't want me to die and leave the arena knowing that she did nothing to ease my suffering. Till death do us part. She would carry on, she had to. She had to win for me.

Escape

I could never picture her in the orchards. I tried so hard to paint her that way. I tried to make an escape for her. I wanted to let her out of the games. Free her from the clearing where her life ended. I couldn't, she was always in the arena. Her face was stony; there was never a smile on her lips. I couldn't find one. She was never happy in the arena. Even when I drew her with Katniss, there was always a a touch of sadness in her eyes. She was only at peace when she died.

**A/N: I'm sorry its late and very short. My cousins are staying this week, and they are completely crazy. I have two weeks off, but I am expected to revise all these two weeks for my GCSE's :O, so back to Judaism revision :) Please review xx**


	19. Glimmer

Gold

Gold and precious stones. That's all that I needed in life. Well, that and food. Most of my clothes had a gold colour on it somewhere, and all of them had rubies, pearls or diamonds decorating them. Those scraggly sticks from District 12 have probably never heard of gold. I can see the little girl from 11 looking at my interview dress enviously. I look gorgeous and everyone knows it. My district partner doesn't seem to like me though. I didn't bother to remember his name because he's an idiot for trying to ignore me. Everyone's supposed to love me!

Love

My only regret for her was that she never knew love. She had her fair share of boyfriends over the years, but they were only interested in her looks. She was beautiful, my daughter, but no one seemed to pay attention to what she was like on the inside. Everyone assumed she was stupid, that she wouldn't understand what was going on. My daughter was intelligent, she wasn't top of the class, but she knew enough. I didn't like her going to the training sessions because it reminded me that she might die before me. My love was her downfall.

Idiot

The girl was an idiot. She claimed to know how to use a bow and arrow, but it painfully obvious how awful her aim was. She was slowing us down. We needed to find the weaker tributes quickly during the night. She couldn't run as fast as the rest of us and she was louder than the lover boy from 12! She said she had had training in weapons, but I bet she doesn't know one end of a sword from the other! District 1 always sent in air heads, some could fight, but none of them had a brain.

Mend

You could mend a broken kite or a toy car with missing wheels. You could mend someone with a splinter or a grazed knee. You couldn't, however, mend someone with a knife sticking in their back. The District 4 boy lay at our feet, spluttering up blood and hacking spit onto the floor. He had fallen on the side and tried to curl into a ball, but the pain from the knife prevented him from moving far. The boy from 12 stood by the cornucopia, holding another knife, shaking slightly. This game wasn't a game anymore, you couldn't mend death.

Maladies

It felt like someone had thrown boiling oil over my skin. My fingers shook and my head jerked back, the poison was taking over. I was a career, I was supposed to win! A buzzing filled my ears and I bit back a scream. The alliance had left me; that was the plan from the start. "If anyone gets hurt, we leave them behind." I had agreed with that, but now I was in this position…The stings were swelling up, I could feel them pulling at my skin. I could feel the poison throbbing through my body, killing me slowly.

Even

"Is my dress even?" Glimmer pulled at the shimmering material with one hand.

"Yes, of course it's even. Why would your stylist put it on at an angle?" She was really starting to irritate me, we hadn't really spoken before the games, I didn't really want to start talking to her now.

"Well, maybe I caught it on something and it was pulled over. I want to look perfect!" She was shrieking in my ear now. I pushed her away and rubbed my ear gingerly.

"Just shut up! I can't take your whining anymore!" How could girls be so annoying?

Remember

She remembered her. I watched her, from my VIP chair at the front. She was standing awkwardly next to her _boyfriend._ They didn't know what love was. The love between Glimmer and I was stronger than that of the bonds between diamonds. There is nothing stronger than what we had. She was my sister, she deserved better. In a few years her name will be forgotten, just like everyone else's. The mockingjay however, she would go down in history. Her lover boy would be remembered too. I just hope they're tormented by the memory of my sister haunting their dreams.

**A/N: -Sheepish wave- yeah, I'm still alive. Hello :) I'm really, completely, totally, utterly sorry for the delay which ensued the last chapter. Life + Exams + lots of writers block = late chapters. But I checked out my poll yesterday and people had voted! I can't deny the public what they want :P If there are any Doctor Who viewers out there, feel free to check out some of those stories because they're updated a little more often seeing as the series is on now :D Please review! (and sorry for the massive author's note)**


	20. Madge

Member

Father had to go to a mayor's meeting once a month. He hated it. District 1 and 2's mayors always looked down their noses at him. All the other districts thought that they were better off than him, he could hear them gossiping about him. Sometimes he told me funny stories about the other Districts; his favourite one was about the Capitol representative who spoke like she had a tennis ball crammed in her mouth. He was a member of this elite group of people, but nobody lets him show his potential. He's just the "raggedy" man from District 12.

Amen

Dear Lord,

I don't know if you're listening right now, you must get a lot of people like me. But if you are listening, please could you help my mother? She used to have a sister, but she died before I was born. She never told me how, but I think it was the games. Now Mother always has headaches and she has to stay in bed all day. Its three years until I have to be entered into the reaping, but it's getting worse and my first reaping might be too much. Don't take her way from me,

Amen.

Dying

He's dying. That brute stabbed him and now he's bleeding to death. He's dragged himself to the edge of the river and has made a futile to stop the bleeding. His hands are frantically pulling at his trouser leg and he's pawing at the wound, wincing as his fingers brush against the raw flesh. This will kill him, but he has to die if Katniss is going to come home. It's an impossible situation, I don't want either one of them to die, but one of them has to. Peeta reaches gingerly into the mud and smears his face slowly.

Gale

I liked to sit by my window when I couldn't sleep. I'd stay there all night usually. Some nights, I would catch a glimpse of Gale. He would meet Katniss by the boundary and then go hunting. If I looked hard enough, I could sometimes see his smile. But then Katniss left, and Gale held Prim back at the reaping and let her sister go. He wasn't at school the next day; someone said they had seen him going to the meadow. He was hunting, by himself. I can still see him from my window, but he doesn't smile anymore.

Evidently

Peeta and Katniss had won. They had their own houses in the victor's district. But they were avoiding each other. I thought they were supposed to be in love; they are the star crossed lovers of District 12. I asked Katniss about it at school one day, but she just looked at me and said, "I'd rather not talk about it." Gale isn't talking to her much either, it might just be because of his new job in the mines, but he seems colder towards Katniss as well. I thought that everything would stay the same as before, evidently not.

**A/N: Tadaaa! Another chapter up! This is "revision" for my english exam tomorrow, writing to explain, inform or describe :P Now I just have to revise poems from other cultures! Woohoo! Please review x**


	21. Foxface

Fumble

I hover nervously beside the bread stall. The owner glances at me suspiciously, as if he knows what I'm about to do. I stand my ground, if I wait here long enough he'll have to serve another customer and leave me to grab what I need. Here was my chance, my quick fingers steal across the table and grab a large loaf. I run for a side alley, but he's seen me. My hands are shaking now; the bread isn't as steady in my grip, its slipping. It falls into a puddle and I run for home. No food tonight.

Ordered

Ordered to death, that was me. Father used to boss us around, he would threaten us. He never laid a finger on us, but we couldn't stop him from hitting Mother. We left him eventually, but then we had no money. My younger sister asked me to bring her some food; I had to find food for us all. The peace keepers kept us in order; we were whipped for minor offences and shot for major ones. My life had always been ordered. Now I had been ordered into the games. I wouldn't survive, I had been ordered to death.

Xeric

My water had run out days ago. My tongue felt like it had shrivelled up inside my mouth and was slowly making its way down my throat. I didn't have any iodine to purify the water and I didn't want to risk drinking it straight from the stream. There would be no point dying from drinking bad water when I had survived this long. I knew that dehydration would kill me very soon. I would need to steal some water from someone before the day was up. There were only a few people left though, the arena was almost deserted.

Fall

I hope she fell out of that damn tree and died. Once Peeta saw her face in the sky he would stop holding on. When he died, there would only be Cato, Clove and Thresh left. They would fight, at least one of them would die; preferably all three of them would die simultaneously. It was a source of delight to imagine Katniss crashing through the branches, her limbs flailing wildly. It would never happen though, she had belted herself in. I only wished I could sneak up the tree and cut the belt while she was sleeping. Goodbye Katniss.

Attribute

Red hair was something my mother had given to me. I used to love it, a way to remember her when I was away. Red hair made me stand out. It was so much more exciting than black or brown. Being a red head didn't really help me in the arena. I used the mud to disguise it as soon as possible; I rubbed it in and stuck bits of bracken into it as well. I suppose it would have been better to hack it all off with a sharp stone, but that would have taken my mother with it.

Careful

You couldn't be too careful, that's what she had always taught me. Constantly check your surroundings. I could see her following her own rules up on the screen, her pale face swivelled on her thin neck. She told me never to take from the same place too often, and never to take more than you need. She was taking even less than she needed in the games, if only to avoid being caught out. She had always been the better thief. Once she had realised that, she had ditched me. "Thieves work better alone, you can never be too careful."

Everdeen

Katniss Everdeen. It appeared to be a nice enough name; it appeared to belong to a nice enough girl. But as the games progressed, I liked her less and less. Everyone fell over themselves to try and help her. Peeta hung onto life by a thread, just because he was in love with her. Rue pointed out the tracker jacker nest, just because she like Katniss's pin. Thresh let her go, all because some silly little girl who died in her arms. I had no favours; I had no sponsors to buy me wonderful gifts and medicines. I was tougher.

**A/N: It has been a while D: sorry. We were talking about ideolects today, and dialects. Turns out, in the north, they call bread rolls barn cakes. I've always called them baps, which is what us southerners are supposed to say, but no one else does. So, what do YOU call a bread roll?**


	22. Marvel

Mantra

He died with death on his mind. Kill her. He stalked through the forest on Clove's orders. Kill her. Kill her. She was small fry, Clove had said, it would be easy, Clove had told him. Kill her. He had argued; she wouldn't put up a fight; she would go down in one hit. Kill her. She had threatened him; she had been fishing in her pockets for a cruel knife as he made a hasty retreat into the trees. She had shouted to him, kill her. He caught her, she cried, he killed her. Kill her. Kill her. Killer.

Aloud

He didn't voice his opinions aloud; he voiced his opinions through his actions. An argument with his family? He could fix that in the boxing ring. A rejection by a girl? Nothing a good punch-up wouldn't solve. Glimmer liked the sound of her own voice far too much to be normal, she would whine and complain to everyone as they walked and she sniffled when they stopped to eat. It was almost a relief when she died, Marvel didn't feel anything about it even though he ought to have since he was her partner. But he didn't, and moved on.

Requirement

The Hunger Games required some sort of intelligence for you to survive, even a little common sense is essential for you to live. The girl from district 8 had lit a fire in the forest; that was just plain stupid. They had surrounded her within a matter of minutes, she barely had time to whimper before Cato had thumped her around the head and Clove stabbed her stomach. Marvel trod on her arm to break it for good measure. He smiled as the bone crunched under his foot and the girl's head jerked back. One kill closer to coming home.

Virtue

When Marvel was seven, he entered his first bout of sparring. He came home bloody and bruised but the boyish sparkle in his eyes was still there and still shining. He was being trained to become a murderer, but the innocence of his youth hadn't yet realised how serious this business was. He wasn't focussed on a future of slashing, stabbing and screaming; he just wanted to have another go at the boy who had knocked ten bells out of him at training. His mother congratulated him and his father patted him on the head before sending him to bed.

Entry

Arrow shot, boy hit, a man destroyed. She had shot him, he thought she wasn't as close; he wasn't ready to run away or to fight her. He was too busy trying to block a small girl screaming from his mind. The arrow entered the side of his neck and pierced through the other side. It shredded through flesh and muscle, ripping his windpipe and flooding his mouth with blood. He took a wheezing breath and pulled out the arrow to end life faster. The man that he was had been reduced to a cowardly boy who wanted to die.

Little

She was just a little girl. She was a little girl with little fingers and skinny arms and long dark hair. Why did Katniss want her alive? What did she have to gain by keeping the alliance? The girl had to die, and soon. Clove had sent me to kill her, she was only holding up the competition. She was an easy kill, a good stab to the head or the stomach should do it. It would hurt her, but what did it matter so long as it didn't hurt me? She had to die so that I could win.

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**A/N: Sheesh, that took a while to bang out, I'm sorry about the wait, but things don't appear to be letting up in the future either, so there's no set deadline for any future chapters, sorry D; But if you liked it, pleeeeeaaase review?**


	23. Reaping

**Retch**

No one could cry prettily, there was always the onslaught. You lie there on the floor of the room, heaving sobs and retching against the sour, black tears that are falling. You whimper into the plush rug and stain it with the saltiness of your tears. _Pull yourself together!_ But you can't, you try to hold it in but you let out a scream, twisting one hand into your dress, hitting the floor with the other. You don't want to die, but you will, you have no chance. You'll be the girl from District 8, forgotten and murdered so easily.

**Easy**

He finds her as he comes to say goodbye. He is the only one. She is on the floor, curled into a ball with her hands over her face. He runs to her and falls to his knees. He will make this better; he _has_ to make this better. He pulls her onto his lap and strokes her hair back, she flinches at the touch. He kisses her lips, she opens her eyes. He says goodbye and the tears return, heavy and dark. He holds her too tightly as she cries on. Life would almost be easy without the games.

**Acceptance**

I couldn't stop it, we needed the food; he had to enter himself again. He entered himself seven times extra every year, there would be fifty six slips with his name on by the time he was eighteen, if her ever got there. I knew he would go into the games, he would be picked and no one would volunteer. You never got any volunteers in District 10, no one stood up for you. He was brave, my boy, he would fight and he would fall, no doubt. But what could I do to stop him? He was too strong.

**Pressure**

He was prepared, he knew how to fight and he knew how to die. What else did a career need? He'd been trained since the day he could walk; he could use any weapon you could name and any weapon that you couldn't name either. He was ready, his friends were egging him on and his instructors told him to go for it. He was only focussed on winning, he wouldn't lose. But if he had to die, he hoped he wouldn't be made fun of back home. He wanted to die heroically, or return as a champion. _I volunteer!_

**Injustice**

Everybody knows that everybody dies, but they hope that it will occur peacefully and in their sleep. Not the Capitol though. They wish for all traitors to live as they watch their children get torn apart by savage monsters, or by other children. They scream for blood, bask in the wide pools of the dying contestants eyes. They take bets on who'll get chosen at the reaping. They aren't children, they a pawns in chess. Some cry in anguish when their television transmission goes down and they miss a vital part of the proceedings. Oh, the injustice of it all.

**Nearing**

Winter means death from the cold. Summer means death from the games. They know it's coming; they can feel it in the air. It's almost like lambs to the slaughter, people think they're oblivious but it only takes one slip for it all to descend into chaos. The citizens try desperately to claw their way back up to normality, but knowing that two children will die in a matter of weeks isn't the best thing to go to sleep on. No one gets much sleep in the month preceding the reaping. No one gets much sleep after the reaping either.

**Growing**

The hordes of people grew as the time approached the ninth hour. Younger children were reaching out and grabbing onto their parents, begging them not to let go. There were the careers, flexing their muscles and laughing nervously as the minutes chime away on the clock tower. The Capitol representative would arrive in the town centre at exactly nine o'clock so there was nothing to look at, just the growing sense of pride as the stronger children swaggered up to their sections. They would die in pain and anger, their lives would be cut short in childhood. It wasn't fair.

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**A/N: I thought you lovely people deserved another chapter :D thanks for all the reviews you've given me, and please review this chapter too?**


	24. Murder

**Mine**

She is my kill, I hit her with the arrow, I brought her down to the ground and now it is time for me to kill her. She's rolling in the dirt, her back arched and her fingers skittering across the dead leaves. The arrow in her stomach is draining her life and I reach over to pull it out, to cause her more pain. She screams and her eyes roll back into her skull. She had this coming to her; she was the one who lit the fire, that's why we caught her. I slowly pull my knife out.

**Unknown**

He's a dying face in a forest. They know he isn't dead but they aren't going to kill him, they're going to watch as he breathes and chokes on the blood that's filling his lungs. There's a neat wound in between his ribs where the smallest career got him and there's a dent in the side of his head where they hit him with the club. He cried out once when they hit him, he called for his mother. He is past talking now; he is nearly past breathing, the unknown child who called for his mother in the night.

**Remember**

I'm still here, you won't forget me. I drown your ears with my dying screams every night. I pound out the death march in your brain, I will march that rhythm until you die. You can't escape me. My face has been etched onto the backs of your eyelids so that even when you try to sleep, I will be there. The guilt will twist your guts in the same way you twisted mine with your dagger. There is blood on your hands; you will never be free from it. I am the girl you murdered, you will never forget.

**Dying**

They think it's awful, to die. They torture you and stretch it out until you snap, they do it for entertainment. Mother told me not to be afraid of death; she said it was just like being an autumn leaf falling from a tree. You hold on for all you're worth, but when you fall, it doesn't really matter anymore. It doesn't hurt to hit the ground and all your friends are there already because they all fell from the tree as well. It only hurts to begin with, the pain rips across you and you scream until you die.

**Euthanasia**

Murder isn't evil, it's a _sport_. Hunting out the weak and putting them out of their misery. Sometimes you'll even do it quickly, if they're lucky. A blow to the temple to knock them out and a quick stab through the heart, it's a euthanasia of sorts. The poor sods don't have the guts to kill themselves; you're doing them a favour by doing it for them. They could come across much worse than you; you're not even a career. They should be thanking you for killing them, not screaming for help. They shouldn't run; you're trying to help them.

**Reaching**

If he can just grab onto the branch he'll be fine. He is hanging on a ledge above a bed of sharp rocks. He didn't mean to trip up, the ground was just so uneven. He tries to reach for the branch again; it's just inches out of his reach. He thinks he could try jumping but he's worried that he'll lose his footing on the roots that his feet are precariously balanced on. He wishes for a miracle, he has to win. He sees his district partner and calls out to her for help.

She stomps on his fingers.

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**A/N: I don't have an excuse for that absence there, but from now on I'll be working for quality and not quantity, sound okay? Please review?**


	25. Snow

**Switch**

The seventy-fourth games hadn't killed her so the seventy-fifth would have to instead. He was a trusted man; no one would know that he did it. No one knew what was in the envelope anyway, how could they ever find out that he changed them? The Katniss girl had to die; her death sentence had been signed when she volunteered for her sister. President Snow could fix it so she would be chosen again, a double death sentence. Katniss would die because he could make it so. He would switch the cards around and she would go straight to hell.

**Nobody**

She was supposed to be a nobody. She should have died in the seventy-fourth set of games. That mighty oath from District 11 should have caved her head in with his stone. Those stupid morals and promises that the District children all had and kept, they stopped her death. She should have died and life would have remained the same. The third quarter quell would have happened and then the seventy-sixth set of games, it should have carried on until the end of time. But she is not a nobody, she is the Mockingjay and now my empire is ending.

**Over**

It was over. The girl had done it. She had killed Coin and let go my own way. It was going to happen soon, I could feel it. I could feel the blood flowing up my throat, forcing its way past my tongue and teeth, pushing through my lips and caressing them as a lover might. I laughed and I could feel it choking me, sapping the life from me. Me, the man with the blood of hundreds of children on his hands finally dying in pain and anger as they all did. But I would not die in fear.

**Wanting**

"No, you can't be there. You're dead, remember?" A young girl with golden hair crossed her arms over her summer dress. "You're not playing it right!"

A young boy scowled up at her, "Just because you're older, doesn't mean you can boss me around."

"But that's not how you play the games! Grandad taught me how to play; he knows how it works the best!"

An old man with a walking stick stood by the park gates and called to her.

She ran into his arms and kissed a pale white cheek beside those blood red lips, "Love you, Grandad."

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**A/N: **Hello, hello! I'm not sure how IC this one is, I haven't read the books in a while but I did flick over some of his passages to make sure it wasn't awful :L Please review!


	26. Goodbye

**Gone**

The girl is crying again, it's like she doesn't even realise she's doing it anymore. So what if her sister's gone now? It's not like she's the only one who's lost someone to the games, my dad lost his brother when he was younger and it's likely he'll lose one of us soon enough. There's no point crying over someone who's gone, there isn't anything to be done but carry on. That's what they would have done if your places had been switched. Say goodbye while you can, and man up when they go. They're gone, you can't change that.

**Over**

It's over now, it's done. Goodbye childhood, goodbye fear, goodbye Hunger Games. You turned nineteen yesterday and you're free, sort of. You don't have to be entered into the reaping anymore, but you can't take tesserae for your family either. Your brothers and sisters will have to be entered more times to feed themselves. They might get chosen and you would have to watch them die because there's no way in hell that they'd survive. What if you had children? They would be entered, they might be chosen and then you'd have to watch them die too. It's never over.

**Out**

"And District 5 is out of the game! That's it folks, both tributes knocked out at the cornucopia. Goodbye District 5! Hope you have better luck next year!"

Two children have just died. They have just been murdered in cold blood and people are cheering for it. People will forget the names of these children by tomorrow. People will laugh at how quickly this girl and this boy were "knocked out of the running." Think on that for a moment. No one will remember these children in twenty years, but would anyone remember you either? Does anyone even care anymore?

**Death**

It's quick, almost easy. The nightlock slips between your lips and you break the delicate skin between your teeth. It won't be long now, thirty seconds at most until it's over. You start to count, twenty-nine. You remain sitting and start stroking the long grasses around you; you breathe deeply and feel a pain in your heart. Twenty seconds left. Your vision starts to blur and it feels like a better idea to lie down now. The grass is soft around your head; your fingers begin to twitch. Twelve. You take another breath. Five. You shut your eyes, two…one.

**Below**

When you die, your spirit goes to the sea, that's what she's been told. All the tributes lost and all the others too, they get to spend eternity below the waves. Sometimes she wishes she could go there, just for an afternoon. She wishes she could ask them if it hurts to breathe underwater, or if it doesn't really matter because they're dead anyway. When she goes swimming, she always tries to keep her eyes open in case she sees someone who was lost, even when the salt makes her eyes sting and go red. She just wants to see.

**Years**

He's dying on screen in front of millions of people for entertainment. It isn't quick; he's bleeding out and desperately trying to plug his wound with his hands, his clothes, anything. It isn't fast but it'll be over soon enough for him. For everyone else however, this death will last for _years_, there'll be action replays, there'll be slow motion versions, sped up versions, there'll be ones set to sad music, set to happy music. People will recreate the scene at home with red sauce for blood; children will play it out in the playgrounds. That's just how it works.

**Everyone**

You never think it'll be you, but it always comes for you. Everyone has to say goodbye eventually. It could be a friend, or a cousin, or a brother or sister, it could be your son or daughter crying for help that will never come. The Hunger Games will get you, it doesn't matter who you are or where you come from, they will find you and they will make you suffer. It doesn't matter if you're a career, or if you've been trained or if you think you're ready. You aren't, nobody is ever ready. The games get everyone.

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**A/N:** I'm not really back, I just don't want to do homework :P I hope you enjoyed it :)


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